Not So Delightful
by samtempl
Summary: Faced with Turkish Delight, Edmund tries to help Susan remember Narnia.


Edmund was seriously contemplating where he would rather be: getting beaten by Oreius (again!) in front of his whole entire court at a tournament, or a party with Susan.

As he was currently at a party, he was leaning towards a tournament. And that was saying something, considering the fact that he had gotten countless bruises from Oreius and there was _nothing_ more embarrassing than falling off a Talking Horse in front of the entire court.

He sighed, sinking farther back into his corner. It was a very nice party, he had to admit. It seemed like Susan's favorite kind of function, with important people, gorgeous dresses, and crystal glasses. Everything was too fancy and grand for Edmund's taste, but Susan loved parties. She had always loved them, but since returning from Narnia, she seemed to adore them even more. The bigger, the better.

Squinting through the throng of well-dressed people, Edmund tried to find Susan. He was ready to leave. In fact, he'd been ready to leave since they'd arrived—before that. Why had he even allowed Susan to drag him along on these things, anyway?

Where _was_ she? Surely she had nothing else to talk about! The little Edmund had heard of the conversations had made him want to crawl under a table and choke with laughter. Everyone was trying so hard to be pompous and sound dignified and important. The conversations had topics like the recent visit to the ribbon store, what the secret recipe was in the cake, and—the big headliner—_do you think Henry will propose to Jane_?

Only Susan didn't look as if she was faking, because she _wasn't_. She really _did_ act like royalty. She didn't have to _pretend_ to be important; she _was_ important.

And even though she pretended she didn't know about it, pretended she had forgotten about Narnia and being a queen, Edmund knew by the way she still held herself, by the way she smiled, that she remembered.

Maybe that was why he'd allowed himself to be dragged along so willingly (not _willingly_, but he could have resisted more if he wanted to). Because these parties were the only places he got to see Susan as a queen, and he so longed to see that again, even if it was just a hint.

He sighed and dragged himself out of his corner to find Susan. Whatever he said, it was way past time to leave. Where _was_ she?

A serving girl with a tray of food zoomed in on Edmund.

"Hello, sir," she said brightly. She held the tray out. "Would you like some?"

"Uh, okay," said Edmund, taking one of the sticky treats. "What is it?"

"Turkish delight, sir."

The treat—no, it wasn't a treat, it was poison—was halfway to his mouth when he froze, horrified. He tried to let go of it, to let it fall to the ground, but it was so _sticky_. It just would not fall, would not be removed. Just like his memory of it.

Edmund had to remind himself that the serving girl was not Jadis. She was not trying to kill him or his family. She was not trying to destroy his life. She was not trying to use him for any evil purposes. She was not trying to twist his mind and scar him forever with scars that would span two worlds. She was simply trying to make him happy by giving him a sweet.

"Sir?" the girl said uncertainly.

"Oh, Edmund, there you are!" Susan, on the arm of a handsome man, walked up to him. "I was just trying to find you. This is Robert. He's very—" She finally stopped and studied his expression. "I say, Ed, are you alright?"

No, he was not alright! This was Turkish Delight! Edmund wanted to cry, not as much for himself as for Susan. Susan _had_ to remember how this made him feel. She had to remember what it had done to him—what it had done to _them_. All of them. How strange, he thought fleetingly, that a whole world had been changed by a snack.

"Oh, you've got Turkish Delight there!" said Robert, obviously trying to ease the tension. "I love that. It's a favorite of mine. Delicious, though not very nutritious!" He added a nervous chuckle.

"Oh…" Susan breathed, and for a moment, Edmund saw something flicker in her eyes. Sadness. Pain. Sympathy. Regret. Recognition. Oh, Aslan, she _remembered_!

"Really?" said Edmund. "I actually hate the stuff. Awful, really. Nastiest, most disgusting treats ever. Don't you agree, Susan?"

Caught off-guard, Susan frowned at Edmund. Her moment of recognition had vanished. "No, actually, I don't. It's perfectly fine. Really, Ed, that's quite rude of you to say something so mean. Robert was just stating his opinion, those unkind words were unnecessary."

Edmund felt himself deflating. Susan _had_ to know. He knew she did, deep inside. He'd _seen_ that look. So why was she pretending not to know? Was it for Robert's sake? Or her own?

"You can try it," Robert offered. "We get only the finest Turkish Delight in my household. You wouldn't want one bad Turkish Delight to taint your whole experience, right?"

"Please try it, Edmund," Susan said softly. "Robert's right: things change."

Biting his lip uncertainly, Edmund couldn't tell what his sister was referring to. Narnia's change since the Golden Age? Edmund's change since the Turkish Delight? Susan's own change?

"Fine." Edmund found himself reaching out for the treat from the serving girl. "But I'm only doing this for you, Susan. To remind you that not everything changes." And he was doing this only for her. Because this was the closest he'd come to seeing her remember in the longest time. He wasn't going to let it go.

Pain flashed in Susan's dazzling green eyes before she was neutral again. "Try it," she urged.

The Turkish Delight tasted like blood. Blood of the hundreds of innocents deaths caused by it and Edmund.

He doubled over, hacking it onto the carpet. The ugly taste lingered in his mouth. He swore he saw cold, dark eyes gleaming in the blood-red shag carpet.

"Water," he rasped, "I need water."

As the serving girl hurried off to find water, Edmund looked up and locked eyes with Susan. She looked so disappointed in him, so ashamed.

"Stop over-reacting," she hissed. "It's only a desert."

But it wasn't. And Susan should have known that.

* * *

**Ack. This didn't end the way I wanted it to, but I still kind of like it. I was going to have Edmund tell this to someone (Lucy, Peter, Eustace, etc.) but this seemed like a better stopping point.**

**So, did you like it? Hate it? Confused you? I'd really appreciate some feedback! ;D**

**-Mighty Minto**


End file.
